<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Wonderful Christmastime by emeiyonemillion</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28204389">Wonderful Christmastime</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeiyonemillion/pseuds/emeiyonemillion'>emeiyonemillion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempt at Humor, Chaos, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Food Fight, Holidays, just bois having fun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:55:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28204389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeiyonemillion/pseuds/emeiyonemillion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys being chaotic while they prepare for the holidays!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>George Harrison &amp; John Lennon &amp; Paul McCartney &amp; Ringo Starr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wonderful Christmastime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Flour is everywhere. On his face, the counter, the floor, his hands, and much to Paul's dismay (and John's amusement) in his hair. Cookie sheets and sticky pages of cookbooks litter the kitchen as what seems to be the beginning of every Christmas song blares, John truly taking advantage of their Spotify premium. Meanwhile, George and Ringo decorate the house; setting up the tree and lining the roof with colorful Christmas lights. The holidays were always a joyous occasion at the Lennon-McCartney-Harrison-Starkey house, the chaos was pleasant and orderly, and everyone got along (for the most part). As Paul turned away to get another pan, John snatched a ball of cookie-dough, still cold, and Paul smacked his hand. </p><p>"Not yet!" he scolded, and John pretended to pout, burying his hands in his brown and red reindeer sweater with large cotton ball nose stuck on the front. "I'm not dumb, Lennon." Paul took the dough from John's hand and set it down on the cookie sheet.  </p><p>"You're right, you're not dumb. Stupid's more like it." Paul turned, hearing the crack of mischief in his voice, just in time to see John grab the bowl of cookie-dough, stuffing a large wad of it in his mouth and vaulting himself over the countertop. Unfortunately for him, after years of being friends and having a younger brother Paul was quick, grabbing ahold of his foot and yanking him back. John took another wad of cookie-dough and launched it at the younger man, the mess hitting Paul's cheek with a slap, staining it a chalky white. Paul took a second to register what had happened before peeling the dough off his apron and launching it right back at John. it hit him right on the lenses of his glasses, knocking them off his face and almost him off the counter. Paul would've laughed had the impact not thrown the bowl from John's grasp and it cluttered to the floor alongside the cookie-dough it once contained. </p><p>Paul and John froze, both staring down at the mess; Paul's expression blank and mind trying to decide whether to be angry, surprised, or sad and John's expression and mind of 'oh shit, oh shit, oh shit'. Paul chuckled dryly, more of a huff really, and John's skin crawled.</p><p>"Well I suppose we can't use that anymore..." They met eyes, simultaneous smiles breaking across their faces as they seemingly read each other's mind. Each man scrambled to grab as much dough as he could before ducking behind furniture for cover, dough already dripping from the ceiling. </p><p>~</p><p>When Ringo and George walked in from figuring out where in the Hell you plug in Christmas lights and building a little mini snowman (Richardo Starrison I) they expected to smell freshly baked cookies, Paul and John curled up on the couch hogging them. What they did not expect was to be immediately bombarded with lumps of hard, cold, unbaked cookie-dough. The sticky substance coated every surface of the downstairs, sticking in the carpet and couch and George's rug (which he was very upset about). And in the middle of it all (or more to the left really) stood John and Paul, looking like they had been dunked in white paint or water followed by sugar, throwing any last bits of dough they could salvage back and fourth, using couch cushions and chairs and George's rug again (which he was VERY upset about) as shields and armor. Neither seemed to even notice the two until Ringo cleared his throat, and they both froze. Even the dough Paul had just thrown seemed to fall to the ground mid-air (which he will tell you is because of Ringo and not because his aim is off).</p><p>"Caught ya red-handed. Hand in the cookie jar- though I suppose there won't be need for a cookie jar as we have no cookies." George mused, his glare returning the chills John had gotten earlier. No one said anything for a bit until Paul stood up. </p><p>"I call George."</p><p>"What?! That's not fair, I didn't know we were picking teams!"</p><p>"Sucks." Paul tossed a ball to George, who took a small bite before throwing it at John, smiling as it smacked him right across the face. The holidays were always a joy at the Lennon-McCartney-Harrison-Starkey house.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>